Текст книги "A Bargain So Bloody"

Автор книги: Vasilisa Drake

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“Then you know what we’re about to do, and you still came dressed like this?” Raphael sounded exasperated.

That in itself was about as shocking as being in the presence of an oracle. Raphael was never anything as mundane as exasperated.

“I accounted for that. I weighed my desire to do your bidding exactly with my desire to make an impression, and the latter won.”

Amalthea was a voluptuous woman, elegantly dressed in large swaths of flowing fabric. Unlike my practical wool, hers were layers and layers of gauze, intricately embroidered in varying patterns. Her hair was silver, with shocks of white and blue lowlights that matched her gray eyes. Or gray eye, rather. A decorated glass orb sat in the left socket, moving with the right one as she appraised me in turn. Her face was made of circles, with round lips, full cheeks, and puffy eyes, which gave her a youthful appearance. Her skin had the warm tones under it that the vampires lacked.

Yet she was as unnatural as the vampires. A witch who could see in the future.

Raphael had brought up the Witch Kingdom’s treatment of seers at Apante. Was she the reason?

“So you believe you can undermine my plans.”

I would have quaked if Raphael had spoken that way to me, with icy accusation. Amalthea gave the vampire king a dismissive wave. “Relax, Your Majesty. I thought of that.”

On unspoken cue, the doors behind us opened once more. My spine stiffened at once. If Amalthea was the consummate witch, the male who stepped in was utterly vampiric. His skin was the color of the running moon, his hair a shade lighter and slicked back before tying off at the nape. He wore a uniform of some kind, black with a purple emblem on the shoulder. While Amalthea was close to my height, this vampire was nearly as tall as Raphael, and more muscular.

He bowed to Raphael immediately.

“My king, I understand you have need of me.”

“Iademos,” Raphael acknowledged. “I’m afraid once again our witch has decided she knew better and brought you here. I didn’t yet want vampires around—” He cut off with a glance at me and turned to Amalthea. “It’s unwise to go against my wishes, Oracle.”

Though he faced Amalthea, I didn’t take my eyes off the vampire in the room. My fingers shook slightly, longing for the comfort of the copper cuffs I’d left in the bathing suite. The vampire spared me the barest glance before focusing on Amalthea, annoyance obvious on his features. But restrained annoyance, like when a friend has played a joke, rather than vampire annoyance where they contemplate tearing you limb from limb.

I tried to steady my heart and failed.

“Even when you are wrong? Surely our king hasn’t changed that much on this journey.” The witch’s voice was lilting, like she was singing instead of insulting her king. “She will be living among vampires. She cannot be cloistered away. You trust Demos above all others, so who better than your right hand to join us? He’s much better with a blade than I am, in any case.”

“Fine,” Raphael bit off. “I leave her in both of your care.” An ominous current ran between the words.

Iademos nodded gravely. Though I wasn’t facing Amalthea, I suspected her response was less deferential.

“You’re leaving?” I didn’t mean for my words to come out as a whisper. Panic spidered over my skin, constricting my chest. He was leaving me with another vampire?

Raphael faced me. “I have matters to attend to. Despite her many faults, Amalthea is correct. I trust Iademos above any other in this mountain, or all of Eurobis. I planned to hold off the introduction, but since Amalthea has deemed herself an incompetent teacher”—an indignant huff from the seer—“they will both be with you when I am not.” He reached into the folds of his cloak and pulled out a short scabbard. “Learn this weapon. You will not need it here, but it will give you comfort to have and know how to use it, given your future plans.”

My plans to leave, once I finished translating. I took the blade and pulled it from its oiled sheath, testing the weight in my hand. It wasn’t gold, but the color was similar. Bronze? Raphael nodded once with satisfaction and left without further word.

I swallowed.

What now?

Amalthea approached me without any of the hesitation that constantly rattled inside me.

“In His Majesty’s hurry to play nursemaid, he forgot all his manners.” She ignored a pointed cough from Iademos. “My name is Amalthea, court seer to the Vampire Kingdom of the West and resident know-it-all. Or if not all, at least the interesting parts. That disapproving fanged menace is Iademos, right hand to the Vampire King of the West and general of Damerel’s army.”

She looked at me expectantly. Right. This is the part where I introduce myself. “I’m Samara. No fancy titles, I’m afraid. Just a stray Raphael picked up.”

Amalthea laughed, and Iademos’s lip curled into something that might have been a repressed smile.

“Oh, you’re much more than that. You’re the first human Raphael’s ever claimed as his Chosen.”

I blinked. “What?”

Iademos cleared his throat. “What Amalthea means is you’re our king’s guest. That in itself grants you status.”

“Like his right hand and an illegal witch as babysitters?”

“Illegal witch?” Amalthea repeated, tone thunderous.

I looked down, embarrassed. That was the term I’d always heard used to refer to seers, and it had slipped out before I’d thought through the implications.

“There’s no such thing as illegal magic, any more than there are illegal clouds. Magic chooses its form, and we obey. Only a fool attempts to restrict the existence of kinds of magic. There will always be a reckoning for such hubris.” The words were almost a growl by the time Amalthea finished speaking.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean—that was rude of me.”

Amalthea’s expression softened at once, the thunderstorm gone as quickly as it had come. “I’ll bear no grudge, Samara. I’ve had worse said about me and done to me.” She lifted a hand to her face, where her glass eye looked back at me. “You’d be wise to remember what I’ve said.”

I nodded. “Can I ask how you came to be here?”

“Of course. And because I like you, I’ll even answer. Here, come and sit.”

“The king told us—rather told you—to train her,” Iademos chastised.

Amalthea waved him away. Where the vampire guard frightened me and was clearly not one to be trifled with, Amalthea treated him like an annoying sibling. “Learning about her new home is important training for Samara. There’ll be plenty enough time for you to show off all your little drills later. Not that there’s much to say—stick them with the sharp end. Nothing to it.”

Iademos ground his jaw. I kept my eyes on him even as Amalthea dragged me over to a bench.

“Won’t you get us refreshments?” she asked saccharinely.

“That’s not my—fine.” He huffed and left the room.

Amalthea flashed me a victorious smile.

“Is it wise to needle him like that?” I asked, unable to help myself.

“Oh, Demos likes it. He has the rest of the castle too well-trained. A person can only take so much bowing and scraping before they want to fling themselves off a cliff. I keep him sane.”

I had the distinct impression Amalthea was doing her best to drive the guard insane. Still, I was glad to have a reprieve. Even if Raphael trusted him, it was impossible to relax around a vampire. An oracle was difficult enough.

“Where were we? Ah yes, how I came to be here. It was a combination of factors. My parents were voids, and my powers were late to manifest. By the time it became obvious I was an oracle, they couldn’t bear to see me killed. For a time, they tried to hide me from the village, but a young witch has to practice their powers. One little gaffe on my part and the village was demanding my head. They fled with me in the middle of the night, and after a time we made it here. Or nearly, I should say. My mother didn’t survive the journey, and my father died soon after.”

“A vampire killed him?” Sympathy twisted in my stomach.

She shook her head. “No. His heart simply stopped one day soon after we arrived. In any case, that’s my tale.”

“Are there many witches who come to the vampire lands?”

“Not many. More voids, looking to be turned.” At my horrified look, she grinned. “Immortality and supernatural strength are a seductive combination. Mortals serve in the kingdom, and if their service is exceptional, they can earn the king’s blessing to turn.”

I swallowed. “Is that why you serve Raphael? Because you want to be a vampire?”

“No. I’ve seen enough of my fate to not want more,” she said, a touch quiet. “I serve Raphael because he’s a decisive, fair king. Besides, it’s forbidden to turn a witch. Immortality, supernatural strength, and magic? Even the gods would condemn that.”

I didn’t presume to know what the gods would and wouldn’t condemn, especially if Amalthea was implying vampires weren’t condemned by the gods.

Heresy.

“So you’re telling me humans just… come to live and work in the Vampire Kingdom?” My tone was heavy with skepticism. “The vampires just let them do their jobs instead of feeding off them? Next you’ll tell me you have orcs over for tea every week.”

“Only once a month,” Amalthea replied immediately.

I laughed before I could help myself.

“See? There you are. I knew there was a girl with a sense of humor under that skittish exterior.”

“Skittish?” I snorted. “What human wouldn’t be terrified when surrounded by vampires?”

Amalthea gestured at me, gossamer fabric flaring. “A human under the protection of their king. Vampires revere hierarchy, and King Raphael sits squarely at the top. You’re his. No one would dare try to steal from the king,” she explained. “Besides, the vampires don’t feed indiscriminately outside of designated times. You of all humans have nothing to worry about.”

Despite her assurances, I remembered the time a vampire had bitten me. The vampire king. The way I—no, my body—reacted.

“You expect me to believe they can control themselves? They’re little more than animals.” I forced contempt I didn’t feel into my words, chasing away the memories of the bite.

Amalthea frowned. “Is that really what you think?”

No. Not about Raphael. But I could still see it—the blood, the throat ripped open. Blood and blood and—

Amalthea pressed my hands into hers. “Gracious, stop shaking. He’ll lambaste me for distressing you.”

I shook the memories off as well as her hands. “I’m not going to run off and tattle to Raphael.” The thought was preposterous.

Amalthea took a long drag of her tea, her smallest finger extended as she dipped the cup back. “It’ll hardly matter, dear. He’ll know. He drank your blood, after all.”

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Chapter Twenty-Nine

I gaped at Amalthea. “What?”

“What have you done now, Thea?”

I flinched at the sudden sound of Iademos’s voice. He’d returned carrying a tray of tea and biscuits, and I hadn’t heard so much as the packed dirt crunch under his boots.

He set the tray between us and leaned against the wall. There was enough space to sit, but I was thankful. He could clearly sense how uncomfortable I was and was giving me some distance.

But my discomfort was overwhelmed by the sheer number of questions threatening to bubble over.

“What do you mean? He can feel what I feel because he drank my blood?”

“Well, yes,” Amalthea said.

“Thea, it’s not for us to tell her this.”

“It’s my blood, so I certainly think I’m entitled to know what it means,” I snapped.

She looked between me and Iademos. “You have a point. It’s simple, when King Raphael drinks someone’s blood, a link is formed. He’ll be able to sense your emotions for the rest of your life.”

“Is that how it works for all vampires?” Gods, the taking of blood was an invasion, but this was beyond any horror I’d imagine.

“No, not at all. Very few vampires have that ability. I understand it’s rather overwhelming, given how much vampires drink. He’s not taken from the source in over a hundred years.” She paused, gauging the effect of her words on me. “And those he’d taken in the past out of necessity, he killed shortly after so he wouldn’t be bothered.”

My skin turned to ice.

“Biscuit?” she offered.

I took the biscuit. Then I ate three more after the first made me acutely aware of how hungry I was. “If Raphael is going to kill me because of my pesky emotions, I might as well die with a full stomach.” Crumbs sputtered at the corner of my mouth around the words, any semblance of manners forgotten.

Amalthea’s eyes flew wide. “Oh, no. I’m sure he wouldn’t.”

I wasn’t. Right now, he needed me to translate the grimoire, or so he claimed. But a few months or years from now? When he was sick of being bombarded with my fear and stress and all those pesky mortal emotions?

But I’d ask Raphael directly about it later. There had to be a way to sever the link… besides the obvious. Him not mentioning it had to be deliberate though. If it was easy to sever whatever bond had formed, he’d have done so by now. Right?

“Now, where were we?” Amalthea said, obviously eager to change the subject.

“Before mentioning Raphael’s killed every human whose blood he drank, you were telling me the vampires and humans coexist peacefully.”

The witch winced. “I’m not saying there’s never any… friction. But generally, yes, it’s peaceful. The vampires here aren’t starving by any means, so there’s little danger from them. Feeding tends to occur only from donors.”

I frowned. “Donors?”

“Humans who offer up their blood to vampires,” she clarified.

I jerked back. “Why would anyone do such a thing?”

“For gold, mainly,” Amalthea explained. “There are many jobs open to humans here, but since blood donating is one thing vampires can’t do, it’s a lucrative avenue. From my understanding, it can be pleasurable work.”

The memory of Raphael’s fangs buried in my neck and the sensations it brought burned through me once more. I drained my teacup to the dregs, desperate for anything else to focus on.

“Ready to train, then?” she asked as I set the cup back down on the platter.

I stood. “Please.”

But Amalthea didn’t stand with me. Instead, Iademos pushed off the wall.

I hadn’t forgotten the vampire was there, not quite, but I’d managed to relax temporarily. Now, I squared my shoulders and unsheathed the dagger. I doubted I’d be able to even scratch the vampire with it if I tried. Gods, I hated being weak.

Raphael trusts him. I tried to repeat the words enough to calm myself, but I had no doubt the vampire heard every quickening beat.

“You won’t be using that today,” the vampire said. At my confused look, he explained, “For one, you’re liable to cut yourself with it without training.”

“And for another?” I asked.

“It’s a cursed copper alloy, which means in the extremely unlikely event you struck me with it, it would… prick. Use this instead.” He walked to the rack of weapons and tossed me a short wooden blade. I scrambled—and failed—to catch it.

“We have our work cut out for us,” Iademos said dryly.

I glared.

He grinned. “That’s better. Can’t fight off enemies if your tail is tucked betwixt your legs.”

I didn’t believe it was possible for me to tolerate a vampire besides Raphael, but Iademos almost made me question that belief. He was relaxed, and careful to give me space. He wasn’t treating me like I was prey or overly delicate.

He took a practice dagger for himself and flipped it in his hands, waiting for me to settle my grip on the training stick he’d thrown my way.

“A dagger’s not a great weapon if you’re in a head-on confrontation. It doesn’t have the reach of a sword, but it also doesn’t require the muscles or years of training.” That explained why Raphael had picked it for me. From the looks of the larger practice swords, I’d struggle to lift one, let alone defend myself with it. “What’s good is that you can use it to maneuver when your opponent is close and surprise them. With your size and sex, you’ll be underestimated in just about any fight—which is the male’s fault,” he emphasized after Amalthea made an annoyed sound, “not yours.”

I wasn’t offended by blunt lessons. I’d learned at a young age just how much of a liability being a girl could be, and I’d learned since then that I would use any tool available to me to survive.

“We’ll make sure to use it to your advantage,” he continued. “Now, I’m going to show you the basics.”

So the general did. From a distance. He demonstrated and ran me through several drills. He always stayed within my line of sight, avoiding sudden movements. I was grateful for that, even if I likely would have benefited from more corrections.

The hours passed. A thin sheen of sweat coated my forehead, my body exhausted from the repetitive movements, but I was determined to practice without complaint. I’d spent a lifetime wishing for protection in different forms—in magic, in my mother, in the Monastery—and I was tired of it. For the past weeks, I’d relied on a vampire to keep me safe. And Raphael had, but Raphael wouldn’t always be there, and more than that, I didn’t want to need his protection. In a few weeks or months, however long it took to translate the grimoire, I’d be setting off into an unknown territory. I needed to stop looking outwardly and start building my own defenses. So even though my shoulder was on fire, my wrist aching from the abrupt use, I continued.

It was Amalthea who finally said it was enough.

“I can keep going,” I said quickly. “I don’t have anything else to do.”

Iademos shook his head. “As much as I hate to say it, Thea is right. Overdo it and you won’t be able to move your arms tomorrow.”

I was unprepared for the disappointment that pierced me. Even though they had a point, it felt like a failure.

“Each day, Amalthea or I will work with you on building strength. A dagger may not require the strength of a broadsword, but you still need some muscle to pierce the skin.” He ran his gaze up and down, but there was nothing to it beyond a blunt appraisal.

“We’ll have you ready to carve the hearts of vampires out in no time,” Amalthea assured me, the bloodthirsty promise leaving her lips with a smile. “But you and I have another trial ahead of us.”

I put the practice dagger back on the stand. “We do?”

“We do,” she confirmed. “We have a ball to get ready for.”

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Chapter Thirty

Iademos took his leave while Amalthea stood and dusted off her immaculate skirts.

“What ball?” Vampires have balls?

She read my expression with ease. “Courts always have balls, do they not? Our king has been gone for weeks with no word. It’s only right to have one to commemorate his return.”

“But… I don’t need to go to that.” I didn’t need to be around vampires any more than absolutely necessary. A ball was not, by any measure, necessary.

“Raphael claimed you. It’s only right you make an appearance. Besides, people are curious about you.”

Just what I needed: vampires interested in me.

“And you must be curious about them as well.”

“I’m really not,” I insisted. I knew everything I needed to: They were dangerous predators, and voids like me were their ideal prey. As for the ball itself, well, I’d never been to one, though I’d watched from the corner of the room as my mother prepared to attend, layering disguise magic on top until her appearance transformed, making her unrecognizable—and in the eyes of a child, just a little scary.

My heart ached, in that fleeting moment, to be a child again and watching her. When the scariest thing was seeing her lips turn from pink to purple, her lashes long enough to graze her magically sharpened cheekbones when she batted her eyes.

She shrugged. “Well, too bad. You’re going.”

“Why?” I demanded, collecting my dagger from the bench.

“Because I’m not missing the ball, and Raphael left you in my care. Do you really want to sit by yourself in a room with a chair barricading the door shut because you’re terrified to be alone in the Vampire Kingdom?”

I glared. That was exactly what I intended, even if I’d come to see just how outmatched I was against vampire strength. “That’s a low blow.”

“Low blows work,” Amalthea countered. “Now, we’ve barely enough time to get ready, so let’s go.”

“How long?” I asked, alarmed.

“Less than three hours.”

Amalthea navigated the twisting hallways of Damerel with ease. I froze at the first pair of vampires we crossed paths with, but the witch just tugged on my arm to keep me moving while the vampires bowed their heads in respect—at us. Humans.

“Here we are.”

I didn’t recognize the hall where Amalthea’s rooms were, but that didn’t say much. Despite the fact we were under a mountain, the hallways were every bit the labyrinth as the castle in Ulryne.

“These are your chambers?”

“They are,” she replied, tossing the doors wide.

To say Amalthea’s room was chaotic was to greatly understate the level of disarray. Dresses hung off every elevated surface, from the changing screen to the wingback chairs by the fire to the low table in the middle of the room. The floor was a viper’s nest of shoes of every description, from practical, fur-lined boots I’d have killed to have in the prison to heels that rivaled the dagger I was anxiously clutching. That was not to say Amalthea used her room as one big closet. It was also part library, with books scattered throughout, left open to specific pages, and garden, with the remaining floor space eaten up by luscious purple and blue flowers that matched her hair.

“Don’t mind the mess,” she chirped, taking a big step over a particularly dangerous mountain of flats.

I thought of my mother’s immaculate chambers, which never had so much as a stocking out to be gawked at. “No problem.”

She pointed off to the side. “There’s a bathing room over there. You can wash up and then we’ll have some fun. Here, take this. It’s clean.”

She picked a ball of fabric from her dresser, and I unfurled it. A satin robe. Despite the wrinkled state, it actually seemed to have been laundered.

“Thanks.”

I ducked into the bathroom and stifled a laugh when I saw the shelving. It seemed I wasn’t the only one with a penchant for perfumes. Amalthea had dozens of half-empty bottles, some stacked on top of each other to fit. This time, I abstained, washing my body quickly before returning to Amalthea.

“Now, let’s see what we’ve got. Sit,” she instructed.

In my time freshening up, she’d unearthed both a stool and vanity that I hadn’t noticed. Obediently, I sat. Iademos may have been the general, but Amalthea certainly liked to give orders.

“I just love your hair,” she mused, running her fingers through it. “I’m going to have fun with you, Sam.”

She grinned at me in the mirror, gray eye brimming with mischief. Everything she did was with complete ease. Like having me in her room getting ready for a ball was no big deal. Was this what it was like to have friends? Despite the bizarre circumstances, I was touched. My eyes burned.

“What’s this? None of this,” she said quickly. She brushed away the tears that threatened to form.

“It’s just… you’re so nice to me.” She’d been ordered to babysit, but Amalthea had immediately embraced me, teasing, joking, teaching.

She shrugged. “I know we’re going to be friends.”

“Act like this and it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy,” I joked.

“Aren’t all prophecies?” she replied glibly. “But even if we weren’t, it’s in my best interest to be on your good side. I’m rather invested in surviving.”

I frowned. “I don’t see how I could make a difference in anyone’s survival.”

The witch lifted a brush from the vanity and began to run it through my hair. “Maybe not today,” she half-agreed, seeming far too focused on my hair as she answered. Taming the wild strands of my hair was no simple task. My hair was naturally straight, but nights spent sleeping on the forest floor without so much as a comb meant I’d made do with my fingers and little else.

A thought occurred to me. “When you say you know… you mean you got a feeling, or you saw with your magic?”

She divided my hair into sections, not answering immediately for the first time since I’d met her. Had I committed some social blunder by asking? Some witches were intensely personal about their magic—my mother made it a rule to never ask for details, though in private she seemed to know everything. The last thing I wanted to do was offend one of the only non-vampires in the castle.

“It’s a sense, mostly,” she said at last. “Sometimes my power is clear. For example, I knew Raphael would be in the training room. Swear the male doesn’t believe in giving word because he wants to make sure my magic ‘stays sharp’ or some nonsense,” she grumbled. “I get visions of the future. An image, a scene. But I have no way of knowing when.”

I watched her in the mirror, steadfast in her work on my hair. When I tried to grab another brush to help her, she swatted my hands away. “When I was a child, I wanted a little sister to dress like a doll. It seems my fantasies are at last to be fulfilled.”

“I suppose Iademos isn’t willing to let you oil his hair?”

Amalthea barked a laugh so abruptly that she yanked on my hair. “You really do have a humor about you when you’re coaxed from your shell. That’s good. Raphael could use some laughter.”

“You… you speak of him very casually.” I called him Raphael because that was all I’d known him as—the captured vampire I’d partnered with to escape Greymere. But here, he was a king.

She lifted her shoulders as if it was utterly inconsequential. “He is who he is, no matter what he’s called. In court, of course, I show proper decorum. But as his adviser, it does no good to be falling over myself constantly and making sure I’m addressing him correctly and not cutting him off and curtsying for exactly fifteen seconds when he enters a room.”

“You’re his adviser,” I repeated.

“If a king’s council’s duty is to warn him of future dangers, there could be none better than a witch who can see the future.”

That made sense. If anything, it was a wonder the witch king hadn’t repaired relationships with the oracles to use their magic to his own benefit.

The thought felt like a betrayal, so instead I focused more on analyzing what I’d seen of Raphael and Amalthea. It was obvious they were familiar with each other. Was there something more there? I’d assumed vampires nurtured the same disdain for witches that witches held for them, but perhaps that loathing went only one way.

Perhaps Amalthea and Raphael truly were close.

The thought made my stomach sour, and not just because it was antithetical to what I’d been taught as a child.

“There.” She poured some oil from a bottle into her palms and ran her fingers through my freshly brushed hair. “Lovely. Now we can start on your face.”

She reached around me and pulled open a drawer. Dozens of tiny containers and brushes filled the area, clattering as they rolled around. She selected one of the rolling bottles with practiced precision and uncorked it so I could look inside.

“Disguise cards are hard to come by, so I get by with colored powders. Turn,” she instructed.

I spun on the seat. Two things became obvious very quickly: Amalthea had been completely serious about wanting a doll to dress up, and despite her ability to see the future, she was utterly indecisive. She pulled a powder up, compared the coloring with my own, and then switched to another. The process repeated several times until she settled on her selections. With my eyes closed, all my attention was drawn to the feather-light sensation as she brushed over my forehead, my cheeks, my neck. My eyelids got an obscene amount of attention. The brush was almost ticklish, and when my face quirked on reflex, Amalthea quickly ordered me to “not interrupt her work.”

At last, the witch was satisfied with her efforts. She turned me back to the mirror. I’d expected to be painted like an autumn tree. Instead, I found I still looked like myself. My lips were lined and slightly darker, my eyes more attention-grabbing, but since I was among the few in Damerel who didn’t have red eyes, it hardly mattered.

She turned her arsenal on herself, plucking fresh brushes and covering her face in quick strokes. In what seemed to be a matter of seconds, she had given herself light blue eyeshadow and a matching navy lip.

“If you can do it that fast, why did it take so long for me?”

She grinned. “Because I was having fun.”

It seemed indulgent, but it was hard to judge when Amalthea seemed so giddy. Despite the hardship she’d seen in her life, Amalthea had a certain gaiety that seemed utterly natural. Her smiles were quick, and complemented by crinkled eyes. In contrast, each time I returned her smile I felt like a fraud.

“Let me slip something on for the evening and then we’ll sort out your gown. You’re going to be spectacular, Sam.”

She ducked from the mirror and began searching the floor. Heaps of fabric were lifted and quickly discarded until she was three-quarters across the room and appeared satisfied at last. She disappeared behind the silk screen, her previous dress falling over the screen to the ground in a pile.

Since the use of the screen was no doubt for my benefit, the state of the room made more sense. When she reemerged, everything above her clavicle was bare. Her dress began above her breasts, and midnight blue fabric pooled down, cinched only at the waist. Like all her clothes, it was ornately embroidered with long billowing sleeves that ran from mid-shoulder down below her hands.

“How did you decide?” I asked, curious. Well, curious and desperate to delay our attendance at the ball.

“It’s been at least a season since I was seen in this gown,” she explained. “The exposed neck is the fashion of the court among the powerful and the flirtatious. It can be an invitation for a bite. Or it can be a declaration that no one would be able to take from you and challenging any to try. The color is simply because I look wonderful in this shade of blue.”

I swallowed, unable to focus on the blue while her neck and shoulders were exposed. “How do you know which is which?”

“Attitude,” she chirped. She strode over to me as if the floor wasn’t littered by uneven mountains of clothes. “Now, our proportions are too different for me to lend you anything. First thing tomorrow, I’ll ensure a fresh wardrobe is started for you. But tonight, it’s a special enough occasion we can use this.”